


Voulez-Vous

by ProseApothecary



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I haven't started the new season so I can promise 0 spoilers, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22400548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: Stevie likes the sound of records. The clicks and the fuzz and the imperfections. And now that she’s actually earning enough to have a disposable income (who knew that was a real thing?), she’s willing to spend some of it in the newly opened record shop.The cashier glances up as Stevie’s records hit the desk, and he starts looking through her stock.“Nice choices. Hendrix, The Pretenders and…ABBA’s greatest hits.”
Relationships: But more importantly Stevie/ABBA, Stevie Budd/Mutt Schitt
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Voulez-Vous

Stevie likes the sound of records. The clicks and the fuzz and the imperfections. And now that she’s actually earning enough to have a disposable income (who knew that was a real thing?), she’s willing to spend some of it in the newly opened record shop.

The cashier glances up as Stevie’s records hit the desk, and he starts looking through her stock.

“Nice choices. Hendrix, The Pretenders and…ABBA’s greatest hits.”

“It’s for a friend,” she says, handing over the cash.

“It always is. You know, if this is the kind of stuff you’re into, you might want to see our band on Saturday.” He slides over a flyer. We’re not Swedish pop, but-”

“-But you are Jimi Hendrix?”

“We can’t afford to smash our guitars. But apart from that, absolutely.”

Stevie fixes him with a skeptical look. “How many customers do you try this on? When someone buys the Sound of Music, do you tell them your setlist is all Austrian ballads?”

“Course not. It’s half the setlist, max.”

Stevie bites down on a smile. "I'll think about it."

Her competing Saturday night plans are eating Nanaimo bars and scrolling Netflix, so...

She ends up going.

It's _not_ Jimi Hendrix, but it's also not bad. If Stevie were the type of person to dance, she might be dancing.

As is, she sways vaguely.

The gig ends a little sooner than she expected, so she hangs around at the makeshift bar as the warehouse empties out.

“Dancing Queen,” she hears as she downs a shot. “You came.”

Stevie turns toward the voice. “That’s me,” she says dryly. “Young and sweet, only 17.”

“Can I get an actual name? Or are you just known by ABBA epithets?”

“Stevie.”

He holds out his hand. “Mutt.”

“Oh, well if you wanted my _stage_ name-”

“Not a stage name,” Mutt says, sounding rehearsed.

Stevie blinks. “…You’re probably sick of the jokes, huh?”

“Actually,” Mutt says, “you’re the first person who’s found it weird.”

Stevie bites her lip. “In that case-” She sits at the bar. “-2 of your stiffest drinks, please.’

The barman hands over two tequila shots.

Mutt takes the bar stool next to her, corner of his mouth turning up. “I’m kidding. Literally everyone has a joke. So what’s yours?”

“Uh, I would make a dog pun, but I wouldn’t want to be a bitch?”

“Nice. Only heard that one twice before.”

“Well, I aim to please.”

Mutt smiles. “No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But I _will_ cover your drink. Then maybe you can afford to hold your next concert somewhere other than an abandoned warehouse.” She hands over one of the shots.

He downs it and winces. “I think it really adds to the ambience we’re going for.”

“The condemned ambience? A bat swooped me during the performance.”

“You’d pay extra for that at a Manson gig.”

“Oh, I know. I just wanted to assure you that if you heard me scream, it wasn’t fangirling. It was me trying to attack the wildlife.”

“Hm. Does that mean the underwear that got thrown onstage _didn’t_ belong to you?”

“I think that came from the 70-year-old 2 rows ahead.”

“Huh,” Mutt says, looking around. “Maybe we should ask her to buy us more drinks.”

Stevie downs her shot and orders two more for the both of them.

They've sobered up by the time they get to Stevie's apartment, so she can't really blame the drinks. Just snark, green eyes, and half-smiles. And a healthy scientific curiosity regarding beard burn.

Mutt wakes up in an apartment that’s just as small as his, but a lot more comfortable.

Stevie’s disappeared. But, he's relieved to see, not without a note.

_Had to leave early for work. Here’s my number, in case you want me at your next gig. Maybe your venue will have upgraded to an empty swimming pool by then._

_P.S. Thank You For the Music._

He thinks it's time to start working some covers into their repertoire.


End file.
